


Harry Potter and the Cougar Chase

by ThusSmuttilySpakeI (Zarath)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cougar - Freeform, Cunnilingus, F/M, Foot Fetish, Hand Jobs, MILFs, Older Woman/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 15:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21430294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zarath/pseuds/ThusSmuttilySpakeI
Summary: Harry having his way (or their way) with the older witches of the HP universe. Current plan is to go through the canon plot with relatively minor expansions and changes. Starting in fourth year, hope to work my way up past the seventh book.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Rita Skeeter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 141





	1. Broom Closet Exploration (Rita Skeeter)

**Author's Note:**

> First try, reviews are welcome.  
More is to come.  
Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling. I think.

Despite being annoyed with the Triwizard Tournament overall, Harry had to admit there were some perks. One of these was Colin interrupting a double Potions to inform him that he was expected to go to yet another ceremony. The way Snape pursed his lips almost made the bonus assignment he was sure to get worth it. Almost.

But for the time being, he trotted happily towards the second floor, where the so-called Weighing of the Wands was occurring. Really, he didn’t know what to expect. The only thing similar he knew of was the boys measuring their wands in the showers, sometimes claiming that with great cock comes great magical power. Dean once remarked that with that comes great responsibility, but nobody quite knew what to do with that piece of information. Harry recalled Dean being a bit annoyed at their lack of reaction.

That seemed quite unlikely to be the case right now, though Harry certainly wouldn’t mind seeing Fleur in a state of undress. Suppressing his thoughts, he marched onwards, imagining a Ministry official placing his wand on a muggle cooking scale and solemnly declaring that his wand was too heavy and he couldn’t participate. Not that he would have minded.

The room was brightly lit and all its occupants turned to Harry as he came in. The other champions were apparently already there and he was the last to come. Seeing Bagman wasn’t overly surprising, though he didn’t expect Dumbledore to deign to arrive and perhaps most surprisingly, Ollivander. Britain’s most esteemed wandmaker had his usual unnerving look and motioned Harry over to the table. In the corner of the room, Harry spotted a woman he did not recognise, flanked by a man with a camera. Journalist, he realised.

The weighing then proceeded as expected, with all of their wands being deemed functional, not tampered with and as such, suitable for the tournament. To Harry's bemusement, a photo session followed. He was photographed on his own, with all the champions, with Cedric, with Krum, with Fleur, in some sort of a battle stance, in a duelling position and in way more poses than he anticipated. Luckily, it was all over after some fairly uncomfortable time they were let go.

"The champions may now return to their everyday duties," Bagman announced, "though you are of course relieved of the lessons from which we have summoned you." He flashed a smile towards the Hogwarts students and Harry felt himself relieved. The prospect of coming back to Potions didn't seem agreeable at all. He was just starting his way towards the door to head to the Tower when the unknown woman spoke up.

"If I may, perhaps the youngest contestant would be willing to give an interview to the Daily Prophet."

"I... I mean, sure." Answered Harry with some trepidation. The notion of being quizzed did not seem to be quite his idea of fun, but what was he to do? Perhaps he may even correct some of the people's wrong impressions.

The woman looked understanding and motioned towards a nearby closet of sorts. "I will not keep you long, don't worry. You can catch up with your friends soon."

The others quickly filed out of the room. Harry was glad that it included even the cameraman. He certainly had had enough pictures for a day. Or a year.

Finally, he had an opportunity to take a closer look at the reporter. He guessed she was in her forties, though with witches you could never tell. Her eyes were framed by heavy glasses and he was unnerved to find an intense stare from her green eyes. He let his eyes wander for a bit to her emerald robes, rather more tight-fitting than he came to expect from other women in the wizarding world. It even had more cleavage that he would consider the 'hint' that fiction had led him to believe was appropriate. Her hips nicely extended and he couldn't help but wonder what laid beneath the fabric. He was quickly brought to his senses when he saw that she was still eyeing him and smiled guiltily at her.

"Now, if you're quite done..., I believe we haven't been introduced yet. I am Rita Skeeter, I'm sure you have read some of my articles over the year, haven't you?" His lips formed an 'O' as he realised who he was dealing with. He shook her extended hand, noticing the red fingernails. Harry felt a surge of excitement at shaking her oh so soft hand and briefly pondered whether he shouldn't rather kiss her hand. Where that thought came from, he had no idea.

With that, she led him into something which might have once been a broom closet, though now it sported two chairs. She put her parchment and some sort of an enchanted quill on an overturned bucket and quickly shot a few charms towards the doors. Seeing his questioning look, she explained.

"Just some security measures, nothing to worry about, Harry? Is it alright if I call you Harry?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "We journalists want to secure the privacy of our interviewees. And it wouldn't do any good to have someone snooping, would it?" She chuckled and started the interview proper.

As she leant towards him, Harry couldn't help himself from looking deeper into the cleavage, not knowing what he was hoping to find there.

"So, Harry, my dear, you have already had your share of exploits, if the rumours exiting Hogwarts are to be believed. What led you to enter yourself into the tournament?

Even before he started answering, the quill started moving on its own. He checked it suspiciously, causing her to assure him that it was nothing to worry about.

"I didn't enter myself, actually." He responded with what he hoped was a decisive voice. Now, we, of course, know that it really was quite adorable, but let's not burden ourselves with that.

That he didn't succeed was evident when he looked back at her smirking face. The quill scratched a bit and started the sentence over.

Patting him on the thigh, Rita leaned even closer. "You can hide whatever you want from your classmates, Harry, but just between us, what led you to do it? Expectations of authorities perhaps?"

Harry found it more and more challenging to keep a clear head with her intoxicating perfume filling the room and her hand still resting on him. The warmth of her body surprised him and the views he was getting... Oh boy.

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you what you want to hear. I did not enter myself into the tournament," he said, once again hoping to be resolute. To his bemusement, the quill did not even seem to notice him

"Never mind that then. Perhaps we can come back to it later. Our readers are always quite interested in the personal life of celebrities. I understand that certain Miss Granger has been quite close to you..." she let the question hang in the air for a bit.

Harry himself was getting quite worked up. "Hermione has been one of my closest friends since first year. She is like a sister to me. We would never..." he drifted off, not even wanting to contemplate the implications.

"Miss Weasley perhaps? I gather she is rather fond of you."

"Definitely not. My... my friend's sister. Unthinkable."

Harry was surprised to feel a tinge of disappointment as Rita removed her hand to stroke her chin.

"You are unfortunately uncooperative, Harry. Can you perhaps give our readers a reason for your lack of interest?"

"I mean... It just hasn't come up. I'm not gay, if that's what you're asking. It's just that... I think I have a different type."

"I see." was all the answer he got from her. He chanced a look at the quill and furrowed his brow immediately.

"I'm not hormonally impaired! I'm perfectly normal!"

The quill scratched it and wrote 'hormonal'.

"I'm not hormonal either! Can't I just be... ordinary?"

"I assure you, Harry, hormonal is perfectly normal. Don't pretend like you weren't ogling me from the moment you met me."

Harry immediately wanted to disprove such a claim, to tell her to stop making stuff up, but noticed himself still hypnotised by her covered breasts. Looking up, he saw her moving her glasses closer to the tip of her nose.

As much as he would like to deny everything, he felt his dick give an involuntary twitch. To make matters worse, Rita moved closer once again.

And placed her hand way too high on his thigh for comfort.

She thought him quite cute actually, especially with the look of utter disbelief... and a rapidly rising erection, which, in his sitting position, was beginning to show.

"We can make this interview much more agreeable, Harry, don't you worry, my dear."

Before he knew it, his chair turned into a sofa and a striking witch was sitting next to him. She slowly stroked his leg as she continued.

"Some interviews are just better suited to a more... intimate setting. Now, what do you say regarding the mortality rates of the tournament?"

Harry would have really liked to give a coherent answer. Unfortunately, with most of his blood having migrated south, with a soft hand caressing him and with the perfume and the thoughts he was having and everything and the my god my cock almost hurts, he didn't have much mental capacity left.

"Y-yeah, I'll just try to... live, I guess"

Before asking another, no doubt thought-provoking question, her hand ever so lightly brushed against the growth between his legs. He was not sure how much longer he could manage.

"Do you reckon you'll do better than the other, more experienced competitors?"

Harry was at his breaking point. Summoning up all his Gryffindor courage, trying to ignore the voice of reason somewhere in the back of his head asking why did the word courage always need to be preceded by Gryffindor, he scooted over to Rita, placing his hand on her thigh, before answering. Maybe smooth, maybe not, he thought, not caring anymore.

"I just want to make a good impression... Honestly, the best part of the whole affair is missing exams," he smirked, having regained some of his confidence at seeing her not hex him into oblivion.

Without stopping for as much as a heartbeat, Rita grabbed his bulge, coquettishly smiled and went on with the interviewing process.

"Now, do you have any ambitions for life after school? A career choice, maybe?"

"I.. haven't really thought a-bout it yet... Ahh, Quiditch?" Harry ground out with more than a little effort. The older witch gripping his rock hard cock definitely wasn't doing wonders for his eloquence.

"And is there anything you would like to do right now?"

Seeing his startled face, she cooed him a bit.

"Come, come, you can tell me anything, I won't mind"

"Well, uh, I suppose I'd really love to see your tits, ma'am."

"Finally some progress."

With that, she rescued his cock from the chains of his robes and started stroking him properly. It felt incredible. Her long fingers. Her palm on his dick. The red fingernails bringing more attention. Euphoria swept over Harry at being touched by someone but himself.

"Can I, um, can I touch you?" he asked, shyly enough to bring a smile to Rita's face.

Never one for half measures, she guided his hands to her as of yet covered breasts, letting him fondle her for a bit. Then, with a mischievous look and a twinkle in her eyes - damn, Harry thought, I don't want to think about twinkles now, she let him find the zipper on her back. Tentatively dragging it down, he took in more and more of her gorgeous body. Her white skin, the few freckles on her shoulders... Finally, she took pity on him and shed the rest of her top layer.

Rita Skeeter apparently wasn't a fan of bras.

Her breasts captivated him. Her boobs. Tits. Jugs. Large enough not to fit in his hand, with pale nipples in the middle.

"You're... you're beautiful," he said, still not believing what was happening to him.

"Why, thank you. You yourself are better-endowed than I would have thought," she responded while she continued moving her hand up and down his cock.

He cupped her breasts. She stroked him. He wondered at the softness, yet firmness, at how they sagged slightly and seemed to flow into his fingers. She wondered if she made all the youngsters this hard. And veiny. It made her feel wanted. And wet.

He groped her harder and harder. Harry started focusing on her nipples, finding their paleness ever so inviting. They were just so... round. Like a wheel. Or a circle. Harry pondered his lack of focus and found it better to just go with the flow.

So he moved over managing to leave enough space for her to masturbate him some more, and started sucking on Rita's nipples.

"Oh, Mr. Potter..." she breathed out with a moan, "yes, pinch it with the other hand, yes..."

Rita didn't want it to stop. She didn't quite know what was happening, but there really wasn't any going back. Once or twice she saw him getting rigid, his sweating increasing exponentially and slowed down, to prolong the moment just a bit. His whimpering served to reward her.

The young man sucking on her nipples, the way he reacted to her, the way his cock responded to her - she felt so wanted again. Harry meanwhile expanded his efforts, taking whole sections of her boobs into his mouth and pinching her nipples meanwhile. Rita was getting quite worked up again. So much so, that she forgot to ease the tension.

"Wow, ma'am, I'm-m sorry, I'm gonna cu-um soon," grunted Harry and that was all the warning she got prior to huge spurts of his thick cum started coating her chin, before she aimed him at her tits, a much more appropriate spot, as she thought.

Harry felt euphoric. Joyful. The ninth symphony was playing in his head, silenced only by the pounding of his heart. He watched in disbelief as Rita ran her finger along her glorious boobs and face and tasted his cum.

"Well. That was eventful," she summarised and grinned at her partner, who was clearly just holding onto his consciousness.

He stared at her with utter disbelief, eyes filled with fondness. "Can I, I kiss you?" he asked.

"My dear, wouldn't you like to share that moment with one of your cute classmates?"

"You're so much - more than them. And prettier."

"I believe there will be more time for that later. I trust you will be open to a follow-up interview, after the first task perhaps?"

Harry just numbly nodded and, still in his stupor, watched as she got her clothes on and made her hair look more presentable.

"Have a good tournament, Harry. I trust we will be seeing each other around."

With that, the enigmatic reporter, the first hand not Harry's own to touch his cock, left. Leaving an exasperated Gryffindor on a sofa.

Eventually, gathering his willpower, Harry got up and went towards the Tower. He managed to ignore everything around him - Cho walking by, people with badges, even Peeves didn't bother bugging someone who cared so little about the world.

He collapsed onto his bed and was eternally thankful that Potions hadn't ended yet. He was left with his thoughts alone.

_What. The. Fuck._   
_Why do I have another boner._


	2. Tutoring in the Arts (Rita Skeeter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge gap, it's just that writing erofanfiction (as I'm sure you understand) is not really the highest priority in my life.
> 
> Don't worry, it's not all going to be Harry/Rita, but I feel that she is a good one to start with and to give Harry some basic introduction.
> 
> If you have any special kinks you want me to do, ask in the comments.
> 
> Warning: this chapter includes medium amounts of footfetishism.  
________

The article which resulted from Harry’s, ehm, interesting interview was not all he could have hoped for. It stated a lot more things about, well, everything than he remembered telling Rita. Or, as he was calling her in front of his friends, Skeeter. He learnt that, apparently, his parents would have been proud of him, though reasonably worried as well. New to him was his alleged determination not to let up in his studies, despite the lack of exams. Hermione looked at him quite fondly after that.

  
Yet there was no denying that the article did little in the way of making people believe in him. If anything, being pegged as the champion who warranted front page made Ron shy even further. Malfoy was, at least, still being entirely Malfoy, which suited Harry just fine. Not once did Harry find himself pondering what would have happened, had he shaken his hand, all the way back on the train ride. Would he get Crabbe as his own lackey? Harry personally always thought that he was the slightly less dim one of the two.

  
No, he hadn’t told his friends about the… incident, as he liked to call it in his head. If things were different with Ron, then maybe, just maybe he could consider broaching the topic and based on his reaction continue or not. Or just say it as if it was nothing over chess. Then run away, hide and throw chocolate frogs at him until he calmed down. However, as things were right now, he would just see it as another example of Harry gloating. If he even kept it to himself, that is. Really, the best thing was to keep silent.

  
Hermione was a whole different matter. She would be horrified and certainly run to the library for him – did the wizarding society even have underage consent laws? – but try as he might, he couldn’t picture her looking at him the same as before. Would she pin him as a hidden womanizer or a weakling? Somehow he didn’t think either, but nothing good was likely to come out of it.  
Of course, she noticed something was odd about him when he eventually walked down to dinner that day. But between the Tournament and his best friend abandoning him, she really couldn’t fault him for not being in a talkative mood once in a while.

  
It was on days like the one a week and a half before the first task, that Harry suddenly wished he cared a bit more about his classmates. He had been following Hermione in the library, bringing her the tomes she couldn’t carry and being told not to tarry, Harry. Of course it was fun – wait. No. It wasn’t exactly fun. But at least when she looked up and they talked, that was fun. And so, meanwhile, he wondered why exactly did he have only two, albeit very close, friends. Couldn’t he be like other people and just chat with Neville about plants, with Seamus about explosions, with the twins about anything, with Crabbe about grunts and with that hot blonde Slytherin about the stars?

  
Alas, now was not the time. Perhaps when the Tournament was over. Though, he thought, there will always be more. Perhaps I can start having reasonable relationships with people once I have completely and utterly destroyed Voldemort? That was a bit unreasonable. So was his life.

  
He chuckled at the thought and was rewarded with glares from both Hermione and Madame Pince. Oh well.

  
As the days went by, his mood seemed to get better. Now, he wasn’t concentrating on being as sulky as can be, he was starting to feel the Quidditch tension he loved and despised. Hermione and Harry were training basically all the time, though she wouldn’t skip classes, oh no. That would be too much to ask even from your best friend if your best friend happened to be Hermione.

  
Finally, the day of the task came. With it, many expectations, many sneers, words of encouragement, hurried last words if the worst came to pass. Harry was eating his breakfast in near silence, the chewing becoming rather difficult and swallowing even more so. He looked around the Great hall to gauge the situation, but all he could make out was overall excitement. His gaze wandered over the other champions. Cedric looked paler than usual, Fleur scowled at “ze much too ‘eavy food” and Krum, sitting at the Slytherin table, was adamantly ignoring the blond git trying to get his attention while attempting to speak with the blonde goddess who was in turn quite interested in talking to her friend, whose eyes were unfortunately fixated on the Bulgarian seeker. Harry smirked at the chain and was startled when Hermione punched his shoulder.

  
“Stop staring into nothing and eat something, Harry,” she reprimanded him, while he was busy thinking about the following person in the chain, who should have been laughing at him.  
The task itself was something else. Luckily, the hard training paid off. Harry’s firebolt felt just right in his hands and all the damage he sustained in the course of the flight was just some burns. He barely had time to accept Hermione’s and professor McGonagall’s congratulations before he was swooped off his feet by a levitation stretcher. Madame Pomfrey looked positively livid at another person injured by dragons, this time none other than her most frequent patient.

“Every year your injuries get more and more unreasonable, mister Potter. Luckily, this seems manageable, especially for someone like you. Let me just…”

  
With that, she lifted some sort of a crossbreed of a leaf and a bandage from a jar and unceremoniously plonked it on his burns. Harry got briefly startled but as he felt his injuries heal quickly while releasing some sort of a minty smell, he relaxed and just let her do her thing. As always, anyway.

  
Hermione, of course, rushed into the ward as soon as Madame Pomfrey was done with the basic examination and fussed over him relentlessly. For once, Harry was glad that she soon got distracted with the golden egg, currently residing by the bedpost.

  
Another welcome diversion – welcome, really? – came in the shape of Rita Skeeter’s head plopping into the doorway. She surveyed the room, briefly raising her brow at Hermione and flashed a very fake smile at Pomfrey.

  
“I’m just going to finish up with Mr Diggory here and then I’ll borrow Harry, if that is alright, Poppy?”

  
“Quite alright, he will be ready in a jiffy.”

She smiled brightly at the young man in the bed and the girl Witch Weekly considered his most likely girlfriend.

  
“Isn’t it great when famous people take an interest in you?”

  
Harry and Hermione looked at each other strangely, wondering how in the world Pomfrey managed to care about the Boy Who Lived on a biweekly basis.

  
“Now, now, mister Potter, come along to the Press tent, if you feel well enough.”

  
Harry thanked Madame Pomfrey and passed through a doorway of sorts (what do you even call the entry point to a tent?)

  
Upon arrival, he immediately noticed how the sweet, kind mask Rita presented outside fell. She, just for a fleeting moment, became the seductive, steamy serpent who so simply seduced the said slutty sonny. Well, not exactly slutty, he just felt that way when he saw the face to which he had come so many times in the past few weeks – in the shower, behind the curtains, in empty classrooms, anywhere.

  
However, almost instantly, her face turned more malicious, as if today, she was getting what she really wanted all along. And she did not disappoint.

  
“Today is the day you learn how to treat a woman, boy. On your knees, now.”

  
Harry hesitated only for a moment. After all, what was he to do, resist her? Impossible. The imperative tone floored him completely.

  
After following that order though, Harry luckily knew just the word to get across his complex feelings of confusion, lust and the ones he couldn’t name.

  
“Uhhhh,”

  
“Shhh. Crawl over here, toy.”

  
Harry thought that realistically, he should probably be arguing against crawling towards a witch on his knees. It was just that the legs looked so enticing, so promising… And who knew what awaited beneath that skirt of Rita. What treasure lay there, so far hidden from his sight.

  
The order technically told him only to come closer, but Harry couldn’t stop himself anymore. He started fondling her soft calves, kissing her knees, he even sent an adventuring grab to her thigh and was only startled from his newly found reason for living by Rita’s soft laugh.

  
“Oh, what a good boy you are, how eager! You’re just a bit off, though. All this standing around and reporting has left my feet rather sore. Surely you’ll be a love and massage them for a bit?”

  
How was Harry supposed to respond to that request? What has he got himself into? Was he seriously going to start massaging the feet of a woman he saw once and was more than double his age? Yet, he knew he needed her even without the reminder in the form of a raging boner. Interacting with women, this kind of interaction especially, of course, was certain to be a favourite new pastime of his.

  
Gingerly, he looked up at Rita who motioned with her eyes for him to get to work. His ever so slightly trembling hands took the red high-heels and smoothly guided them off her feet. First the right. Then the left. He was greeted by quite cute feet with emerald-painted toes. Not quite knowing what to do next, he just sort of grabbed her right foot and started randomly groping it, trying his best not to tickle.

  
“Now, now little Harry, your handwork is fine, but try using your mouth as well, would you?”

  
“M-my mouth? Ma’am?”

  
“Suck on my toes. That’s right. Lick them a bit. Yes. Great.”

  
Of course he complied immediately. Harry was way too deep in this (and not deep enough in her) to have any thoughts of backing out. And so his tongue slid along her big toe, at first only lightly brushing it, but he soon found out that the taste wasn’t all that horrible, only a bit salty, really, and so got to work in order to impress his new, darehesay, mistress.

  
He took in her essence, the flavour, the way she nonchalantly crossed her legs for ease of access. Unfortunately, for now, he couldn’t notice how horny he was getting Rita by following her demands, by caring about her opinion and pressing just the right spots of her soles. He got her flowing way faster than she expected a boy like him to, but… He was just so innocent and obedient, he looked up to her.

  
And he was currently sucking the toes of her left foot while her right, already massaged and licked, was playing with Harry’s boner under his robes. How he managed to get so hard for her, even when he was just – in a way – servicing her continued to astound Rita.

  
Harry, meanwhile, would like to say something for his thoughts during his time, but there just weren’t any. Between concentrating on what was in his hands and mouth and how his underwear (despite being originally Dudley’s) was being painfully stretched by his throbbing cock which the older witch had the gall to play with, he just had no coherent thoughts left.

  
Rita originally wanted to have Harry massage her feet, her shoulders and neck, perhaps to let him fondle her tits a bit to establish an even better connection with him. But now, with as wet as she was getting… They could do a bit more. Definitely.

  
“That’s enough, Harry. You’ve done great. Now, it is time for you to learn how to please a woman.”

  
“O-okay. I want to, Miss Skeeter,” Harry said, not trusting himself to compose complex sentences at the present moment.

  
Especially given how Rita spread her legs, her skirt sliding up her gorgeous thighs, revealing her dark green panties. The white flesh suddenly revealed looked so… grabbable, kissable, biteable and what laid beneath that flimsy piece of garment, the young man had heard only fairytales of. Harry gulped and looked up expectantly.

  
“Now, Mr. Potter, I will teach you to eat pussy. This is something you are likely to be doing a lot of in the future, so try to get good at it. I see how you’re watching me. Whip that cock of yours out, but do not cum until I say so, understood?”

  
Harry grunted some sort of an affirmative noise, eager to get down to business. Feeling a bit mischievous, Rita added a clause with a glint in her eye.

  
“If, and only if – Listen to me, Potter – if you manage to make me come before coming yourself, you get to keep these wet, drooly panties I’ve been wearing all day as a reward. Now, take them off.”

  
Harry felt as if his head were to explode. All the noise of the crowds, no doubt leaving the area at this very moment, all of it was drowned out in favour of some sort of white noise permeating his entire existence. Nevertheless, he summoned his (probably trademarked) Gryffindor courage and slid his hands up Rita’s thighs, groping them and peppering them with kisses in the meanwhile.

  
Finally, he hooked his fingers and ever so slowly pulled down Rita’s panties. The front part stuck to her for an instant and he could see the light reflect of a string of grool connecting the panties and pussy.

  
“Now, smell the panties, but – oh, you’re licking them as well, that’s very, well, forward of you, Harry -,“

  
Rita wanted to continue, but she felt the reins on this thing slowly slipping out of her hands. The young Harry Potter, the Boy-who-lived, eagerly placed his head at her opening and began licking.

  
Harry’s absolute lack of thought retreated, luckily, for now he had one thought. He must not come. The panties depended on it. Oh, they smelled so wonderful. There is just no way to describe the smell of a fresh, juicy pussy. It makes you horny, it makes you go hot and hard, hell, even kind of heavy-headed but it’s just… wonderful. Much the same could be said of Harry’s opinion of the aesthetic rating of Rita’s pussy. He really had no idea how to rate pussies. This one was pink, it was spread open for him, it was wet, it smelled wonderful, oh, the taste he got on her panties – something unbelievable, so musky, yet so sweet and sour at the same time, almost overwhelming both his senses and self-control – he didn’t know what to expect from a pussy, yet his expectations were far exceeded. And what was most important – it was waiting for him.

  
Of course, his technique left something to be desired, at least at first.

  
“No need for such sweeping motions, Harry… Go for cat’s movements… Yes… Much better”

  
Harry listened attentively, wanting to improve at this allegedly crucial task. He dared not touch his dick with how hard he was, so he put his free hands to good use and started grabbing Rita’s thighs, her butt being currently unreachable for him.

  
“Try to find a spot which sticks out a bit… Higher… Just a bit higher… It should – oh, you’ve got it. Focus there.”

  
Lapping up all the juices he was getting, Harry licked around, over, next to, all round and about this thing (didn’t Fred or George talk about a clidaris once?) and it was paying its dividends. His ego soared higher and higher as he felt shivers running through Rita’s legs. Soon, she began panting. He kept on going on the spot she told him, only occasionally doing a bigger lick from the bottom up, to taste as much of her as possible.

  
“Now – take two fingers, ahhh, and spit on them – and p-put them inside me – lower, it’s lower, yesss, now stroke more up-waaards!”

  
Harry was in part glad to see her failing to talk, proud that it was his doing, though understanding her instructions was made somewhat harder. Finally having received full instructions for his new quest, he reluctantly stopped licking Rita in order to wet his fingers, trying to get as much on them as possible. Then, admittedly, Harry had a bit of trouble finding the actual entrance to the Chamber of Secrets (he now had enough of a cool head to snicker to himself), but when he did, oh boy. It was just so – so warm and wet and inviting and smooth and unbelievable. He immediately started an in and out motion, which was by now the point of many jokes between the boys – at least he knew kind of how to do it thanks to them, though.

  
With the instructions given by Rita, Harry quickly created a rhythm for himself – he licked the cli- clida- the sticking out bit, swirling a bit around it and even sucking it a bit while his right hand over and over entered the most sacred place there was, desperately trying to hit the spot which would do the most for her. The once or twice he managed she literally shook, but he was sure he was getting closer and would be doing it consistently short enough.

  
Rita was in heaven and she did not believe it. This young man she seduced for a bit of fun, for getting access to interviews was actually going to make her come. He was attacking her on two fronts, fingering her fairly savagely while assaulting her clitoris with passion she did not expect. His free hand now made its way to her right boob, unscrupulously and rather savagely freeing it from its dress prison and intensely grabbing at it. He remembered the lessons of the broom closet and pinched her nipple, before bringing it up, dragging the whole tit with it. She was so close.

  
Harry could feel her trembling. He could physically feel the impact he was having on her body, how she straightened her leg, how she pressed his head further into her crotch, how she played with her second boob, how she looked for something to hold onto, scratching his neck in the process. She was at his mercy and was nearing her peak thanks to him. What a feeling that was. Not many to top it, for sure.

  
“Ahhh…”

  
And with a scream, she came. She thrashed about wildly, forcing Harry to hold on tightly as he continued to lick her even during this phase. His fingers slipped out however and he was not able to reinsert them. Harry stopped eating her pussy after she slapped her thighs together, dizzying him for a brief moment.

  
“That was… fantastic, Harry. Give me just a second…”

  
Rita seemed to be perfectly content, in a state of pure bliss. Harry, however, was still rock hard and despite being incredibly happy with how today turned out, still hungry for more. He got to work on her breasts while she got her consciousness back.

  
“Wow, that really was great. Are you still hard? Let’s do something about that, shall we?”

  
Harry expected her to let him touch her, perhaps give him a hand but she must have been very happy after what he has done for her, as she dropped to her knees. This time, it was Harry’s turn to waver a bit but he had just a second before the white noise surrounded him again at the feeling of his dick being engulfed by a wet, warm, wicked, wanting mouth.

  
He tried to last, he really tried. He laughed at the stories of fifteen second men. But now, with how hot the situation was… He could have probably done five minutes, if he hadn’t put his fingers, covered in Rita’s pussy juices at the very same time she looked up at him. The combination of her eyes, of her renewed taste, not to mention the fantastic sucking work she was doing downstairs… it was just too much.

  
“I-I..”

  
He didn’t manage a coherent word of warning for Rita, but she probably understood the implication. However, she apparently didn’t care as she further intensified her efforts.

  
He came so hard. Spurt after spurt of young cum sprayed the inside of Rita’s mouth. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted that based on the taste he probably didn’t smoke or drink, which really wasn’t that surprising.

  
Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. This wonderful witch let him come into her mouth and – oh my gosh – did she really – just swallowed his cum as if it was no big deal. Well, maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal. He didn’t really know. What he knew, though, was that he was completely spent. Dizziness came over him and he found himself searching a place to sit.

  
Rita had other plans, however. She hit him with a weakened Enervate and his mind came back to life.

  
“Harry, my dear boy, I must again congratulate you at succeeding In both your today’s tasks.”

  
Oh yeah, he fought a dragon today. Somehow it seemed almost unimportant.

  
“Now, run off to your friends, I’ve kept you too long as it is.”

Harry dumbly nodded, feeling a bit Goyle-like. He wiped his brow and took a last look at Rita’s fabulous body.

“Thank you so much Rita, you’re wonderful. And you taste great!”

“Well, you’re welcome. I seem to remember a reward was promised to you, as well.”

With that, Rita picked up her dark green panties from the floor and – oh, wow.

“Oopsie.”  
  
She used them as a wipe for her pussy. Harry’s jaw fell open and he felt himself getting another erection, which kind of hurt, so soon after the last. Rita grinned and handed him his new favourite possession.

“Go now. You better look forward to the second task.”  
  
After Harry emerged from the tent, he was first assaulted by the wind biting into his still wet face – partially from sweat, partially from Rita’s crotch. Immediately after that, though, Hermione hugged him and told him his results, seeing as he was incapacitated at the time of their announcement. Last but not least came the return of his ginger best friend.

He had his comrades at his sides, wet panties in his pocket and his semen in someone’s stomach. Life was good.


End file.
